


Time is Not the Answer You Want

by Allekha



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mid-Canon, Nightmares, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:07:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28989720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allekha/pseuds/Allekha
Summary: After her rescue, Flayn begins to experience nightmares from her kidnapping - but there is certainly no need for her to tell Seteth, when he would only worry and fuss over her. Not when she can handle them herself.
Relationships: Flayn & Seteth (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2020





	Time is Not the Answer You Want

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doandhope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doandhope/gifts).



> Thanks for your patience with this one, doandhope, and thanks again for your donation! Hope you enjoy :)

At first, Flayn thought she was in the middle of another troubled dream, the ones she had been drifting in and out of for so long. She was lying on something, floating in nothingness as her body ached, too weak to move. Then awareness snapped into her: she was not asleep, nor was she floating; she was awake and in a bed, covered with soft blankets.

It would have been so, so easy to let herself slip back into those dreams, drained as she was, but the thought was terrifying. She could not move, but she fought to, fought to stay awake now that she had finally come out of sleep. How long had it been – surely not years and years again, please, no, she could not sleep away so much time again. She was not still with those awful people, was she?

No; this place smelled fresh and clean, and a faint breeze shifted a strand of hair against her cheek. Paper rustled. One hand had been folded across her stomach, but the other was being held by someone, someone who was warm.

It took her a minute to gather the strength to open her eyes, straining against the overwhelming weakness of her body and the gooeyness of her thoughts. When she did, and when the world came into focus, she saw Seteth, frowning at a book he held with one hand as the other kept a firm grip on hers.

 _Father_ , she almost called out, before she remembered that she shouldn't say that, and before she realized that she didn't think she could speak. Her throat was so dry, and even moving her lips was difficult, let alone producing a sound.

She stared at him, willing him to look up from his book, willing her fingers to twitch against his. He looked exhausted, the lines of his forehead drawn deep, and his eyes were not moving across the page like they should have when someone was reading. Flayn tried again to move her hand, and this time, managed to curl her fingers ever so slightly.

Seteth's eyes shifted instantly to hers at that tiny movement. "Flayn," he breathed. When she blinked at him, his book went tumbling from his lap as he leaned over the bed and clasped both of his hands around hers. He bowed his head against her hands, letting out a long breath.

She wished she could simply pop out of the bed and hug him, and then go do _anything_ away from a pillow and blankets. It was enough of an ordeal to manage a smile for him. She meant it; being awake and out of that dungeon was a vast improvement over her previous condition. She wanted to get up. How long had she been asleep?

"Is she awake?" someone asked – yes, that was Manuela, appearing over Seteth's shoulder. "Oh, look at you, dear. See, I told you it wouldn't be too long before she was up again. Would you let me check her over?"

Seteth didn't let go of her hand for a second as Manuela checked her eyes and her pulse. When Flayn managed to mouth the word 'water', Manuela brought her some. Seteth sat on the bed to hold her up with an arm around her back so she could drink it, and it was the best cup of water she could remember having. Water was water, but now it tasted so sweet and was so delightfully cold as it went down her throat. Manuela patiently held the cup for her as she struggled to gulp it down, and then brought her another that Seteth helped her with.

When she was finished with the drink, she asked, "How long?" The words came out reedy and thin, but she needed to know. It could not have been too long if Manuela looked the same – well, the same except for looking almost as exhausted as Seteth.

"We found you about a day ago," Seteth said, putting the cup down and smoothing her messy hair down for her. "It is the first of Wyvern Moon."

Then... weeks. That was not good, but it was better than years.

"You woke up before the other girl we found with you," Manuela said. "I knew you were stronger than you look."

Other girl? But before she could gather the strength to ask, Manuela bustled off to make some kind of medicine for her. It left the two of them alone for a moment.

 _Father_ , she almost said, before she remembered again. "Brother," she said instead, letting her head drop against him. She felt so tired, but she could not allow herself to sleep again. Not yet. The thought made her heart pound with fear. It was bad enough sleeping at the best of times, when she wasn't once more too weak to sit up on her own. "Sorry."

"You don't need to apologize for anything," he said, stroking her hair again. "I'm the one who should be apologizing for allowing this to happen." He sighed again, and his voice went to a strained whisper. "I've been so worried for you."

"What happened?"

"I'll tell you later," he promised, and she couldn't quite gather the words together to object and demand an explanation now.

Manuela returned with her medicine. It was steaming gently, and smelled very strongly of herbs Flayn couldn't identify. Before she could take a sip of it, though, Seteth said, "Wait, Manuela – there aren't any sleeping herbs in there, are there?"

"Yes," Manuela replied, clearly confused, and Flayn jerked her head away from the cup. "They're a standard ingredient in recovery medicines like this."

"She's allergic," Seteth lied, and Manuela's face went horrified.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." She snatched the cup away again. "I'll redo it with just the strengthening herbs. I'm sorry, Flayn. I won't forget for next time, okay?"

Flayn found a smile for her before she whisked away again. Then she glanced up at Seteth and whispered, "Thanks."

"You do need your rest, but I... also do not wish for you to sleep more than necessary," he admitted, and warmth flared in her chest, chasing away the fear.

Manuela brought her another potion, which she drank with no complaint for the horridly bitter taste, and then Seteth eased her back down to the pillow. She still did not want to sleep, but it was so difficult to move her limbs, to bring her thoughts together into something coherent, and before she could mount the will to properly fight it, she had slipped off again.

~!~

Even after Flayn had been allowed to leave the infirmary, Seteth would hardly let her out of his sight, and it rapidly went from comforting to making her want to throw a fit.

She could not spend the rest of her life hiding in Seteth's office reading fairy-tales, and she knew – he hadn't said, but she knew that he was thinking of taking her away again to somewhere new, a place where nobody knew who they were and where they could safely hide away.

Flayn wondered if such a place even existed. If the Flame Emperor had found them here – had snatched her away with all the walls and knights and monks around them – was there anywhere where they would not be found, unless they left Fódlan altogether? But that thought was unbearable.

Besides: she liked it here. The grounds were pretty, and she was enjoying getting to know everyone. She liked fishing in the pond while the monastery buzzed around her and laughter echoed from the dining hall. She liked eating fish sandwiches on the lawn while students shared sweets and had tea parties. She liked sitting in the cathedral and joining in when everyone sang together.

She did not like the idea of running away forever. Always being Seteth's little sister and never his daughter, perhaps answering to another new name, never becoming close enough to be dear friends with anyone. Hiding their ears and their pasts was one thing, but did they have to hide everything of themselves?

There was something else they could do, instead of running away. Though Flayn had been weighing the idea for quite some time, it was overhearing Captain Jeralt talking to Byleth as she sat across the hall in Seteth's office that finally made up her mind. She would become a student at the Academy. She needed to become stronger and to refocus her magical gifts, and the new professor's skills had quickly become the thing of rumors – what better way for her to advance herself and still be safe from their enemies?

She was surprised at how easily Seteth agreed to it despite his initial objection – he really must have been impressed by Byleth's rescue of her to allow it when she asked. Still, on her first day of being part of the class, he spent all of breakfast fussing at her.

"Make sure you do not push yourself too much – if you need to stop to rest, I'm sure everybody would understand. And if anyone starts to bully you, tell me immediately. Or—"

"Brother, for the last time, I will be fine," Flayn huffed, pausing in the exit to the dining hall to brush a few crumbs from her skirt. "I feel quite recovered, I have taken every drink of medicine I have been given, and the Professor has been nothing but kind to me. I am sure nothing untoward will happen."

Seteth frowned at her and reached forward, but only to adjust one of her hair clips. "If you need anything at all, I will be either in my office or with Rhea all day," he told her, and letting her go, added more reluctantly: "Enjoy yourself."

"I assure you, I will," she said brightly, and with that she turned on her heel and practically skipped off. Observing the students and occasionally talking with them had made her so curious, and now she would get to find out what it was like to be one of them – a normal youth, polishing her skills in a classroom and making friends!

She was early, but the classroom was already filling up as people drifted in, some yawning and others chatting with their friends. It struck Flayn, looking around, that she did not know where to sit. Were the seats assigned, or did everyone sit where they liked? She recognized Ignatz (he had said nice things about Cethleann, she remembered), and Raphael (that reminded her, she needed to practice her battle cries), and Linhardt (silently snoozing away), and Mercedes (a frequent sight in the cathedral), and....

Byleth started to sweep by, paused, and doubled back. "You can sit wherever you like."

Had her dilemma been that obvious? "Right!" She gave a sharp nod, and ended up taking an empty desk near the front, the better to concentrate.

People gave her looks – especially when Byleth matter-of-factly introduced her – but once the class actually started, Byleth kept them too busy for anyone to be distracted by her presence. They trooped to the practice grounds for training in combat skills and matches with each other, listened to a lecture on tactics that they then had to discuss in groups, and after lunch, they had individual work. Byleth came over to ask about her goals, which she had thus far not thought about too deeply, and helped her clarify exactly what she wanted to work on.

It was tiring – perhaps Seteth had not been entirely wrong to tell her she could rest if she needed to – but Flayn stayed on her feet the whole day. No wonder all the students progressed so fast, if this was what their days were like! It was just the challenge she needed.

She was even more thrilled when, after class was finished for the day, Mercedes came over and asked if she wanted to come eat at their table for dinner. As they walked to the dining hall, several other students dropped to the back of the group with them to chat, asking Flayn why she had joined their class or complaining about how hungry they were.

Being surrounded by such friendly people... yes, Flayn did not want to have to give this up.

Seteth kept casting looks at her from his table all throughout dinner, to the point where Mercedes even said, "My, your brother looks awfully worried about you."

"He has always been very concerned for me, even before I was abducted," Flayn sighed, digging her fork into her dessert. It was adorable little buns today – she wanted to learn how to make them.

Mercedes giggled behind her hand. "That's just what older siblings do – they worry. I was always looking after my little brother, even without him being kidnapped by evil people, because I cared for him and wanted him to be happy."

Flayn knew that his concern was genuine, but still.... She stabbed another bun. "If I work hard enough and become stronger, perhaps he will see that he does not need to be _quite_ so concerned for me."

"That's the spirit," Raphael said from her other side, grinning at her. "Train hard, eat a lot, and then the next time those guys come knocking, you'll be able to show them who's boss when you punch them in the face!"

"She's not going to punch them," Lysithea told him, looking up from the book she was studying as she made her way through her very full dessert plate. "But perhaps she _can_ blast them into oblivion before they think of experimenting on any more young girls. You're pretty good at magic, right?"

Flayn nodded, and the conversation turned to spellwork. This was so much more exciting than talking about which fish she had caught that day, or listening to Seteth tell her about a problem student he'd had to corral!

Seteth walked with her back to their rooms after dinner, but she didn't give him a chance to start asking if she was okay. Yes, her legs ached and her writing hand hurt and her mind felt stretched out, but there were more important things to care about. And so she chattered the whole walk back about the lessons and how she had done in the practice bouts and the new goals she had decided to focus on, not letting Seteth get a word in edgewise.

"Well," Seteth said when they were at the door to her bedroom. "It certainly sounds like you had a good first day."

"Very much so!" She beamed at him, and the stress of his day visually melted from his face. He patted her shoulder and reminded her not to stay up to late before leaving her be.

As much as Flayn wasn't a fan of sleeping, she was _very_ tired from all that work. She happily climbed into bed, ready to rest for the next day of classes and magic practice and debating hill tactics and—

_It was so cold and she was so alone and it was so dark, and every time she pushed her hands against the stone beneath her she couldn't get up, she was too weak, her spells didn't work and her arms didn't work and she couldn't even drag herself along.  
_

_They came to her to take her blood again and again and they didn't stop when she begged them to and they didn't stop when she cried from the pain and they didn't stop when she was sure the dizziness was going to be the last thing she saw._

_She cried out for her allies, for her father, for her mother, but the sound came out as just a whimper and the darkness only pressed in closer around her until that was all there was and she was weightless, suspended, sleeping...._

Flayn jerked awake and scrambled for the lamp on her bedside table, lighting the wick with shaking hands. The room was still too dark, the moon from the window and the flame beside her not bright enough to fill it; she collected enough of her wits to cast some small mage-lights so that the room was bathed in light.

Then she sprang from the bed and stood in the middle of the room, unsure what to do as the night's chill crept under the hem of her nightgown. It was simply a dream – a very bad dream, but still a dream – and she told herself that, as she had said to Seteth, there was nowhere safer she could be. The monastery was quiet, and when she went to the window to breathe in fresh air, she caught sight of a pair of knights patrolling.

"I am quite alright," she told the empty air. It was not entirely true – her heart was going _thud thud thud_ harder than it had in training yesterday – but it would be true. It was just a dream.

All she needed was something to take her mind from the dream and the memories that had spawned it. If she focused on something else, there would be no room for fear or unpleasant thoughts.

The professor had encouraged her to try pursuing Reason magic as well as the faith-based magic she was naturally suited to, and lent her a beginner's book. Flayn had never taken easily to it, but she sat at her desk and resolved to try. Working on magic would be a good distraction, and besides, she was behind all the other students! The faster she could catch up to them, the better. She would need to give it her all.

By breakfast time, she felt much calmer. If she was a little tired, Seteth didn't mention that he saw any sign of it, and neither did Linhardt when he plopped into the seat next to her in the classroom.

The day was very long, but the business of it was thrilling; Flayn lost a practice bout, did her best to shape spells like Lysithea's, and even got to try out one of her war cries when she trained with Raphael. If her muscles ached as she dropped into her bed, it was the satisfying ache of hard work. Despite the inauspicious start, it had been a good day, and surely tomorrow would be the same!

This time, she dreamed only of a choking darkness, and no matter how she tried or screamed, she could never find a way out of it.

~!~

Perhaps it was the fault of stress, she thought – all that excitement from being a new student robbing her of a good night's rest – as the next few nights, she slept with no problems or strange dreams. In fact, given how often she had stayed up half the night from lack of sleep in the past, the busy days seemed to be lulling her to a pleasant tiredness.

It was a relief, and she put her energy to good use, determined to ignore the scary dreams. She listened to Mercedes hum as they cleaned together in the cathedral, then screamed at some dummies in the training ground as she hit them with spells. Some of the other students kept looking at her – at first, she wondered if she was being disruptive, but then, she had seen loud arguments break out in the training grounds that nobody even turned their head towards. So perhaps it was that she hadn't spent time there before, or even an admiration of her spellcasting technique?

She gave Seteth nothing to complain about, and didn't so much as hint that she'd had any trouble sleeping for a couple of days. If she had, she knew that Seteth would have blamed Byleth, or her classmates, or himself again for 'letting' her be kidnapped, and perhaps he would bring up leaving the monastery once more, and – no, it was not happening. Besides, she was already so mature now; she had no need to go running to him for everything like a child.

So when the dreams came back – with images of people in strange masks and pain she could almost feel when she awoke – she did her best to distract herself and shake off the impressions they left. One morning, she sorted through her hair clips and other accessories, putting aside those in need of cleaning or repair and trying on those which she had not worn in some time. The next, she slipped out to the dining hall early to try her hand at those small sweet buns.

"I realized that I had not yet properly thanked you for assisting in my rescue," she told Byleth, presenting them on a pretty plate she had found.

"Did you make these?"

She nodded and beamed, then plunked down to watch. Byleth picked one of them up and gave it an odd look – she had known the golden color from the spices would look exotic! – before biting into it. Chewing once. Blinking. Reaching for a cup of water and downing the whole thing.

"When you made these, did you... have a recipe?"

"Yes, I did! However, the kitchen did not have all of the ingredients, so I was forced to become creative and improvise somewhat. How does it taste?"

Byleth stared down at the buns and said, "I think I'll save them for later."

Pleased to see someone enjoying her cooking, Flayn swung her legs and dug heartily into her own breakfast. Perhaps on their next free day, she could try another recipe – perhaps one of her mother's with fish! Although, everyone seemed a little sick of them after the fishing tournament Seteth had held in her honor last weekend....

The baking had energized her. Working hard on spells, however, did not, and by the time Byleth was giving them a tactics lecture to end the day, she was staring down at her notepaper and trying to stay awake. It would not do to fall asleep in the middle of class! Not like Linhardt, who had dropped off again next to her.

Still, the room was so warm with the fire going, and it was a little dim, and tactics was so _boring_. Flayn kept blinking at her paper, trying to keep her eyes as wide as possible, and it did work; however, she did not absorb any of the information.

This could not continue. As Flayn prepared herself for bed that night, changing into her nightgown and running a hand over her curls, she told herself: she would have a peaceful sleep, and wake up at the appointed time, no earlier and no later. She settled into bed with a favorite book of hers and read until the words started to blur, hoping it would give her soul better fuel for dreams.

The nightmare was too bright instead of too dark, this time, so bright she could not see anything, until it was not and she could see the blood, could see that they were draining hers faster than ever, and not only hers but Seteth's as well, and that of her classmates, and a man in a birdlike mask laughed and laughed at their struggles—

Flayn scrambled from the bed before she was fully awake, nearly tripping on the covers. The fear was a desperate thing soaked into her, telling her that she had to run, to find somewhere safe – no, silly, this was silly, nothing bad was happening. Silly. Very silly.

But she couldn't help herself; she untangled her feet and crept to the door, peeking out before she opened it fully. The small sitting room outside was quiet. Their tea set was on the table and the door to the hall was firmly shut.

Seteth's room was right next to hers, and though she told herself off for being incredibly foolish and child-like, she opened the door a crack, being careful to shift it very slowly so that it wouldn't make the slightest sound. Seteth, of course, as she had known, was asleep in his bed. There was no evil magic. There was no blood. She could see him breathing.

She stood there for a long few moments, the fear washing out of her blood as her breathing slowed to match his, until she only felt annoyance at how irrational it was to be peeking in on him like this. After carefully shutting the door again, she returned to her own room, picked up one of her stuffed animals, and curled up with it on her desk chair.

After her terrible injuries and her long sleep, there had been nightmares. But they hadn't been so frequent, and they had, for the most part, gone away quickly. Nowadays, she occasionally dreamed of sleeping too long, too deeply, unable to awaken, but nothing like this. The more usual problem was that she took too long to sleep, some part of her always a little afraid of it, and had to be dragged up in the morning by Seteth.

Perhaps these, too, would go away again soon, and all she would have to do would be to endure it. And maintain a good attitude to ward them off. Flayn straightened in her chair, trying to pull on some cheer like a cloak, but it didn't quite fit right.

Sighing, she lit a candle and reached for the book she had been reading earlier. She had been through worse in her life than a few nightmares and some tiredness; she could put up with them until they went away.

~!~

A few days later, she was no less tired and no closer to figuring out a way to make the nightmares go away. Reading didn't help, and neither did cuddling with her stuffed animals, though that did make her feel better afterward.

There were times when she felt more awake – she did well in their outdoor training sessions when they sparred or did field exercises – but in the afternoons, when the energy from running around wore off, it was harder to pay attention. Not that she had so much to contribute to tactics discussions, but she did not want to fall any further behind simply because it took too long for her to concentrate on what she was reading.

In the middle of the week, the Professor had them split up into small groups to work together on certain skills. Linhardt, who was awake today and sharing her desk again, was assigned to Faith magic discussion with her. "You know," he said as she started looking through a textbook for something interesting to talk about, "you never _did_ finish telling me about how you acquired that Crest of yours."

Flayn paused, trying to figure out how best to brush him off. But then Lysithea appeared from nowhere and slammed her own textbook down on the desk, making both of them jump. "Don't you think she's had enough of people poking at her for one moon?" she growled, eyes locked on Linhardt.

He blinked at her. "Ah... now that you mention it, I suppose asking right now might have been insensitive of me."

Flayn waved her hands in front of her. "No, no, it is fine. Truly, I am fully recovered from my ordeal. ...however! I still cannot give you any further answers."

Lysithea rolled her eyes and dragged a chair over to join them properly. "Just ignore him when he starts butting in like that. He does that to almost everyone who has a Crest," she said. "To me, to Marianne, to the Professor, probably to those weirdos in Abyss... and not one of them has said anything useful to you, have they?"

"Not anyone who has a more interesting Crest." He tapped his chin. "Perhaps there is a problem with my methodology?"

"Your problem is that you're a total weirdo about Crests," Lysithea replied. She grabbed the book again and started flipping through it. "Now, can the both of you help me understand this part? The Professor thinks I can learn Warp before the battle if I can just figure it out...."

The battle... yes, the Battle of the Eagle and Lion! Flayn was excited about the prospect of being in sync with allies again – but as part of a mock battle, just for fun and honor and the honing of their skills, without the awfulness of real warfare. She couldn't wait to see how much she'd progressed in her first month, and to run around assisting her fellow students.

Eager to help, she leaned over to scan the passage Lysithea was pointing to. Her words did not come quite as easily as they should have, but she must have managed well enough, for both of them seemed pleased with her explanation of what it meant.

Linhardt's yawning after class finished for the day gave her an idea. He was a champion napper; she was in need of a nap. Surely a bargain could be struck!

She paused him before he could amble out of the classroom. "Linhardt," she said, "there is a topic on which I would like advice, and I think you are just the person to give it! In return... I still cannot tell you anything about my Crest, but if there is anything else I could help you with...."

He considered her for a moment or two, head tilting, and then he said, "I've been reading about fishing lately, but my theoretical knowledge isn't translating into the real world yet. You seem like quite the expert, so why not give me a lesson?"

Flayn drew herself up, proud to have her talent in this area recognized. "Of course! I would be happy to demonstrate for you. Do you have something you need to do right now, or shall we away to the pond?"

He gestured in the direction of the dining hall and the pond, so away they went. Thankfully, Linhardt was never one to hurry; sometimes, Flayn struggled to keep up with the tallest students. Curse her short legs! She didn't know how Annette always kept pace with them.

Mother hadn't been an overly short woman, so Flayn held out hope that one day she would get taller again. It was only her... circumstances... that had delayed her growth. Yes.

At the fishing pond, Flayn did her best to walk through each step aloud and answer Linhardt's questions as she selected her bait, set it on the hook, flicked her pole back at the right angle, and cast it. Then it was simply a question of waiting for the fish. For all his laziness, Linhardt was sharp when he wasn't dozing, and he gave her the same due attention he gave the Professor when he was awake in class.

"What did you want advice on, anyway?"

"I have observed that you are very skilled at napping," she said. "No matter the time of day, the position you are in, or what is happening around you, you seem to be able to fall asleep! It is fascinating. Tell me, how did you learn it?"

He mulled over her question. She waited for him to gather his thoughts, enjoying the slight breeze that blew over the water, the warmth of the sun on her head, the sounds of activity behind them, and the feeling of swinging her legs back and forth under the surface of the dock. Though she was hardly doing anything, she felt more awake than she had all day.

"There's no big secret to it," he said eventually. "But if I had to explain it... I didn't use to be able to sleep through everything. When I was younger, it was napping while laying in the shade of a tree, or staying up too late with a book and falling asleep sitting up. Over time, I started to stay up longer, sleep longer... and I was able to ignore more light and noise when I was tired." He paused when her line bobbed, but the fish didn't bite just yet.

"Does sleeping in such positions ever give you strange dreams?"

"Huh? No, not especially... I mostly don't dream, actually. Or when I do, I don't usually remember it that well." Perfect! That was just what she needed. "Anyway, I'm curious as to why you asked. You don't seem like the type who wants to nap through class."

"Well," she said, scrambling for an alternative explanation before it hit her: "I thought it may be useful to sleep in more situations when I start accompanying the rest of the class on missions!" There; that wasn't even entirely a lie, though she had thought of the reasoning just now.

"I see," he said. She mentally praised herself for her quick thinking.

When a fish finally came to bite, she deftly reeled it in and was pleased to find that it was large – it would make a good meal. Linhardt declined a lesson in preparing it, however, his face turning the same shade as his hair at the suggestion.

Just then, she spotted Seteth in the passageway that wrapped around to the front of the monastery and the market. His eyes were narrowed at Linhardt. _Ugh_. No doubt a lecture for one of them or the other would be upcoming... perhaps a distraction was in order.

"You ought to practice what I have just shown you," she said, shoving the fishing pole into Linhardt's hands, and then she scrambled up with her fish in arms and sprinted around the pond. "Brother! Brother, look at what I caught! And on my first try today!"

It worked; his eyes swept to her and her catch. "It's very large. Well done."

"I am sure it will make a wonderful dinner! Although... it is a bit much to eat all by myself. Perhaps we could share it?"

He seemed pleased at her invitation; ever since she had joined Byleth's class, she had mostly gone to their table for meals, wanting to make friends with everyone and to get to know her classmates, instead of eating with him. "Why don't you start cleaning it – be careful with the knife and remember to point it away at all times – and I'll be along to help out in a few minutes."

She bit down an _I know how to use a knife, Brother, and even if I did hurt myself I could heal it_ in favor of nodding and trotting off. As promised, Seteth appeared in the kitchen after a few minutes and immediately took over the cooking entirely. He was not as skilled at it as Mother had been, and it was annoying to be sidelined and told to talk about her day instead of helping with the meal.

He smiled on hearing about her day, and when she ran out of things to talk about, asked her why she had been on the dock with Linhardt, just as she had _known_ he would. Honestly, it was as though he thought she was some glass delicacy!

"Linhardt has been attempting to learn how to fish, and knowing of my skill at it, asked me for advice. Of course I could not turn down a request for help from one of my classmates." She smiled until he gave in and turned back to the oven where the fish was baking.

After a filling dinner, and with no chores to complete this particular night, she returned to her room. Her energy was fading with the daylight, and she was determined to have a restful sleep. If it took falling asleep over a book, then so be it.

She lit the lamp on her bedside table, then climbed onto the covers and set herself up in the corner, wedged between the walls with the blanket and the armored teddy bear Byleth had given her at some point on her lap. The book she chose was a rather dull one on leadership and its role in battle – all the better to fall asleep to.

It was surprisingly difficult to drop off over it, but she persisted, staring at the pages when the words stopped making sense, until she was drifting and then she was—

—being shaken awake by Seteth. She blinked at him, confused, until he took the book from her lap. "It's dangerous to fall asleep with a lamp on," he chided, putting the book aside and pulling at her shoulders until she lay down properly, too sleepy to resist. "I am glad you are taking your studies seriously, but don't overdo it."

"I am not," she whined at him. He shook his head at her and put the light out, and then it was dark and her bed was so warm and....

At least she didn't dream; she woke up early, feeling refreshed. Happy that her plan had worked, she skipped to the chapel to start her cleaning duties while the world outside was still dewy and quiet, singing a hymn to herself as she worked.

It was good that she had slept well, because that day's class was spent entirely out in the field, working on exercises in preparation of the upcoming Battle of the Eagle and Lion. Flayn spent most of it with Raphael and Ignatz, chasing after Raphael as he cleared the way through the long grasses and bushes while the two of them tried to keep up.

At one point, Felix burst out of the shrubbery next to her; she started, jumped sideways, and then gathered her wits about her. " _Hyaaa!_ " she screamed at the top of her voice, pushing at the air, willing it – and knocking Felix flat on his back with a wind spell.

"Good work!" said Ignatz, eyes scanning the bushes with his bow at the ready. But Felix seemed to have been alone.

"Nice shout!" Raphael said when he circled back around to check on them. "I bet they heard you clear on the other side of the field!"

Flayn rocked up on her toes and back on her heels, beaming at the compliment.

They returned later than usual – after the early sunset of this time of year. As they all tromped in through the main gate, Mercedes was teasing Lysithea about the ghosts of the monastery (Flayn hadn't known such ghosts existed here, the poor souls) and Ignatz was promising to show her his latest painting of the Saints. Byleth kept glancing back at them all with a face that _almost_ had an expression on it.

Their group was loud and full of energy and Flayn loved it. It set something in her aglow, and at dinner, she had plenty to talk and laugh about with everyone.

At night, she waited until she could hear Seteth go into his room for the evening, then lit a short stub of a candle that would soon burn itself out, so there would be no danger from an unattended flame. Then she climbed into bed and set herself up like she had the night before. It wasn't long until she fell asleep, and it was—

_The spell they used on her was red and wet and she wanted so much to make it stop, she could taste iron in her mouth and it sent hurt up every vein of her body and she kept thinking stop, stop, stop!_

_But it didn't end and no matter what spell she tried to cast she couldn't, her magic was gone along with her blood and suddenly her hands were shackled and couldn't move anyway, though she kept pulling at them and pulling at them and trying the spells that should have come like breathing.  
_

_Then she looked up and saw not the strange masks that had hovered over her like floating birds about to pick at a corpse but a man dressed like death itself, mantled in blood and the creeping chill of death and with eyes that burned like flames.  
_

_She screamed but her mouth wouldn't open right and the man was wreathed in red and black and he reached down to touch her face—_

Flayn almost knocked her head against the wall when she jerked awake. The candle was out, and her bed was warm but no longer so welcoming.

She lit a light and looked desperately for anything that could occupy her mind and take away those terrible images. Sewing wouldn't be able to take up her attention for long, and though she grabbed a book, she couldn't focus enough to let it distract her. She ended up neatening her room, murmuring or humming to herself as she dusted her shelves and set her desk back in order so that the silence wouldn't press in and invite more bad thoughts.

 _I wish Mother was here_ , she caught herself thinking. She bit down on her lip and closed her eyes, wanting both to imagine Mother's warm hugs and delicious meals and to not make herself feel even worse.

No... it was more sad not to think of someone she loved, was it not? So she sat on her chair and drifted away, thinking of their house on the ocean and days spend playing in the sand while Mother worked, the way Father had held her while they watched the sunset together, Mother's hands on hers as they baited a hook and pulled back at just the right angle....

It helped her feel better, but it also made her room feel lonely. It was wonderful to step back into the dining hall a few hours later and become one with the crowd.

Perhaps she hadn't correctly applied Linhardt's advice; this time, when she prepared for bed, she read at her desk with a blanket wrapped around her. The only difference that made was that her back hurt when she woke up, and also her shin because when the nightmare awoke her, she accidentally kicked her desk.

So she was in need of another solution.

~!~

The inter-House battle was just around the corner, and still the nightmares plagued her. Some nights were better than others; sometimes she slept almost till dawn, but the next night she might wake after only an hour or two and be unable to convince herself to sleep again even as the night ticked into morning.

Her eyes always itched, and the worst part was that she had to keep herself from sleeping during the times she needed to be awake, which was almost as much of a distraction as the exhaustion itself. When she had difficulty understanding a lecture, she would find herself retracing the same sentence in her notes over and over again with her pen until her awareness snapped back to Byleth's voice. She failed to recall a Faith concept she had just learned when Mercedes asked her about it; at least Lysithea, standing behind her, was pleased to show off when Flayn hesitated.

This was no good. How was she supposed to become stronger if she couldn't even overcome some bad dreams? How was she supposed to contribute to her new circle of allies if she was forcing herself to fidget to keep her head from nodding during class discussions?

Searching the library produced nothing – if there were any helpful books, she couldn't find them, and on this particular night she found herself slamming a book shut in a fit of pique and shoving it back onto its shelf. Surely someone else in the world had experienced and fixed this problem before!

After giving up and returning to her room, she found herself unable to even fall asleep. While that was nothing new, it now seemed to be because she had started to expect the nightmares enough that when she began dozing off, she jerked herself awake again without entering true sleep. It was a little restful lying there, at least, though after some time she gave up on it when she kept bringing up unhappy memories.

Perhaps a walk in the night air would soothe her thoughts. Outside, the air was refreshingly chilled, sharp in her lungs when she breathed it in, and the sky above held a romantic amount of clouds that obscured and freed the moon in regular intervals. She stood in a shadow and watched for a few minutes, her thoughts slipping away into nothingness.

Where did she want to go? Not the cathedral, it would be too dark... the fishing pond? She knew plenty of patrols went by it, and it wasn't like she had brought one of her rods. She would not get in trouble if someone found her – not when she was Seteth's supposed little sister – but word might get back to him that she was wandering late at night and he certainly would fuss at her.

The greenhouse, she decided at some length. Pleasantly lit by moonlight, full of the scent of earth and soft flowers. There could be no better place for her to relax for a while without worrying about being seen.

She slipped through narrow passageways and hidden paths through the hedges, trying to focus through the fuzzy cotton of her brain to watch out for knights on patrol. Thankfully, she made it to the greenhouse without too much trouble, save for her skirt getting caught a couple of times on the sharp branches.

As soon as she stepped inside, her body relaxed. It was warmer in here than it had been outside, and she could _feel_ the pulse of living things, good and green, filling the entire greenhouse. She ran her fingers along some newly sprouted vegetables before plopping herself down by a patch of blooming flowers with silk-soft petals and sweet fragrances.

Flayn lost herself to the simple sensation of touch: delicate petals and slick leaves, smooth stems and crumbling dirt. Before long, she had the thought that perhaps she could simply sleep here, where it was so pleasant – no, someone would certainly find out, would they not? But the thought was tempting....

She brushed one of her curls over her shoulder and started to hum – not any tune in particular – as she contemplated the flowers, shifting along the stone path to examine another bunch that shone white in the moonlight. What time was it? She had no idea if she had been here for five minutes or five hours, each moment slipping by the next without her notice.

"Hello?" someone called. She froze.

It took a moment for the voice to click into place: it wasn't a guard, it was simply Dimitri. She recognized this just before he came around a bush and spotted her.

"Oh! Hello, Flayn. I startled Bernadetta here last week, so I thought it might be her again... you are up late tonight."

"So are you," she pointed out. It was – perhaps not the smartest thing she might have said, she realized after she had said it, but it did make him chuckle.

"I couldn't sleep," he said, sitting down next to her when she scooched over. "I thought the flowers might help me relax more than staring at my ceiling."

"Then, it appears we had the same line of thinking," she said. "The flowers are so lovely in the moonlight. My favorites are the forget-me-nots. Which is your favorite?" Was she talking too quickly? She shook her head briefly, as though it would shake the dust from her mind.

"I don't have a particular favorite," he said. "But I do like working with them, even though gardening is not my strong point. If it weren't for Dedue, I don't think I'd be any help in here at all."

"He helped me plant flowers last weekend," Flayn said. "It was very good of him."

They continued chatting – quietly – about plants and gardening and chores, as though it was completely normal for the two of them to meet this late at night. Flayn knew Dimitri, though not as well as some of the other students, but despite the fog in her mind making it harder to put her words together, it was surprisingly easy to talk with him.

(She really did not want to be caught now; what would Seteth have to say about her conversing _alone_ with a _boy_ in the middle of the night?)

Their conversation dropped into a lull. Flayn wished to lie down on the stone and rest, but she certainly could not now that she had company.

Dimitri glanced at her after some moments and said, "If I may... you do not seem as though you have been sleeping well recently."

"You... you can tell?" She covered her mouth, embarrassed. She thought she had been doing so well at covering up her lack of attention, her yawns, her jumbled thoughts! Nobody else had said a word, not even Byleth.

"I only thought of it today," he reassured her. "In the training yard, I happened to notice that your, ah... your battle cries were not quite as... fierce... as they usually are."

She slumped and drew up her knees. "I did not have my usual energy for them today, no."

"It is nothing to be ashamed of. I, too, often have trouble finding sleep, since...." He quickly continued before she could ask what he meant. "Is there anything you find helps you? Chamomile tea has worked for me, on occasion."

Chamomile... she wasn't sure she had tasted it before. "Is it a sleeping herb?"

"Not as such. It's more for relaxing, I think. When I hold the warm cup and breathe in its scent, I find it helps calm my thoughts."

"Then I shall try it," Flayn said, nodding. "Although to be truthful, I am surprised to hear that you have difficulties with sleep as well. You have never appeared to me to be tired."

"I suppose I get enough rest. And... there are things I must accomplish, no matter what. I can't allow some fatigue to hold me back."

Such determination ought to have been admirable, but something strange passed over his face that made her uncomfortable. Perhaps they should speak of brighter things, but her mind was stuck on the topic at hand... ah, yes! Aid had been given to her, so it would be good to return the favor.

"I have also obtained advice from Linhardt—"

"Linhardt?"

"You have seen how often he sleeps?"

"That is true... perhaps I should try asking him as well...."

They talked a little further before the footsteps of a patrol made them quiet and wait for the light of the torch to pass by the greenhouse. She decided that was as good a sign as any that it was time to return, or she really would fall asleep among the plants and startle the greenhouse keeper in the morning.

The two of them climbed to their feet and brushed the dirt off their clothes. Flayn's knees did not want to seem to straighten all the way, and her first few steps were awkward until they began to co-operate again. Once they had stepped into the cold outside, Dimitri offered to escort her all the way to her room, but she declined – she felt safe enough, and walking alone helped to clear her thoughts again.

There were only a few hours left before dawn, but at least she spent them sleeping without any particular dreams. It was difficult to drag herself from her covers when she did awaken, as she kept thinking that she could turn back over and continue that plain sleep. Seteth calling her name was what finally urged her to slip out and begin dressing.

She had breakfast with him, quietly eating her tart and stew while he discussed something with a church official whose name she didn't remember. When the other man was satisfied and left them, Seteth turned back to her. He was frowning; what _now_?

"I know you are eager to study, and I don't wish to discourage you, but you are not straining yourself too much, are you? You do not seem entirely like yourself lately."

"I do not know what you mean," she said, fighting back a yawn. "Perhaps I am simply growing from my new experiences!"

"That's not what I – Flayn! I am not finished."

She had already stood with her dishes. "But look at the time! I have class to attend, brother. I will see you later!" With that, she hurried to return her dishes and follow the stream of students leaving the dining hall.

When she arrived at the classroom, it was already busy – in fact, there were a couple of people standing around her favorite seat.

"Flayn!" Mercedes called. "Someone brought you a gift!"

Puzzled, Flayn joined the circle of her classmates. There was a small, plain paper package on the desk, nothing special about it and no note left to mark the sender.

She picked it up. "What is it?" Ignatz asked from beside her as she undid the blue ribbon holding it closed and peered inside. On seeing what it was, she brought it closer to sniff at it.

"It is tea," she declared. The package was full of small dried flowers, and smelled like herbs. It must have been chamomile.

"Tea? The Professor is usually the one giving out tea, but not like this. Ooh, I wonder if you have a secret admirer?"

"I do not believe so," Flayn said, and Mercedes's smile slipped into puzzlement. Before she could explain, however, Byleth stood up from the desk at the front of the room. It was amazing how just the smallest raise of an eyebrow could communicate something so complex as _the time for silliness and chatter is over and we will now have class, so all of you sit down._

Flayn made it through most of the day without too much trouble – though she did very nearly fall asleep during the meeting about their Battle of the Eagle and Lion strategy – and after dinner, retired to her and Seteth's sitting room. Seteth always had so much work (sometimes she wondered what it all _was_ ) and as on many nights, he had brought papers up to their room to finish. The work did not stop him from giving her a worried glance. She was simply a little tired, not about to fall over; there was no need to for him to peer at her like that as she walked over to him.

"Brother," she asked, holding out her new package of tea, "how does one steep chamomile?"

He looked up fully from his papers. "The merchant didn't have any advice?"

"It was a gift from one of my classmates," she said. "I did not think to ask how much I should use or how long it must steep."

"Most likely, it's not so different from most other herbal teas," he said, but he pushed himself away from his desk and came over to help her.

She put the kettle on and watched him measure out a few spoonfuls of the golden flower-heads. Their tea set was where they always kept it, on a small table by the window; the pot was white with carved flowers in a pretty shade of deep blue-green that were pleasant both to the eye and the finger, and they had white tea cups to match it. Seteth gave the tea a few minutes to steep before pouring it out.

The tea was a deep gold, like the flowers. Flayn eagerly lifted her cup to smell it; the scent was herby and something she couldn't place. Not particularly pleasant or unpleasant.

"Are the students now trading around the tea I've heard the Professor spoils you all with?" Seteth asked, lifting his own cup and saucer but not sniffing at it like she had.

"No... it was more like a welcome gift." He raised an eyebrow and seemed happy with that response, though she felt a pang at being less than truthful.

To her disappointment, the taste was not so good when it cooled enough to drink, but she dutifully downed her half of the pot anyway. As she did so, she tried to focus on relaxing her body, letting the steam smooth out her stress like a wrinkle in linen.

Perhaps it helped, as she woke in the morning troubled but unable to remember any dreams that justified the lingering feeling; or perhaps it did not, as another nightmare came the next night.

~!~

Flayn was already tired when they took their starting positions for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, and found herself becoming surprisingly annoyed at the long wait for it to begin. Once the battle finally started, however, energy rushed through her as they took off in their planned directions. It did not restore her focus – she felt floaty, her attention focused too much on whatever she looked at, much as she tried to concentrate on the rest of her surroundings. But it did allow her to keep up as her classmates dashed away.

It had been so long since she had been in a real battle – the few moments of attempting to fight off her captors did not count as such – and she had forgotten some of the chaos of it. At least her role was fairly simple: she healed her classmates when they were injured and tried to stay away from the front lines otherwise. While she had not missed warfare, it was motivating to hear their shouted thanks as her magic knitted their injuries and left them ready to keep going. Concentrating on staying where she was most needed took all of her effort, and she knew it slipped at times.

At one point, she paused to help Lysithea up when she tripped over a log and went toes over teakettle down a slope. She was a very strong and focused mage, but seemed to be having difficulty keeping up with the front-line fighters. "Thanks," Lysithea muttered, glaring up the short hill.

"Here!" Flayn swept her hands down and gave her a healing spell, just in case Lysithea had sprained something. She had more than enough magical power in her to last this fight.

"Thanks for that, too. Now come on!" She grabbed Flayn's hand and pulled her along back along the hill, and back into the fray they went.

As the battle wound down and they cornered their last few enemies, Flayn had a chance to try out some of the new spells that Byleth had been encouraging her to learn, the magical energy rushing through her limbs. By this point, she had a dull headache, but she was determined to ignore the pain and finish her job, despite it draining some of the fun from it all.

In the end, their win was unquestionable. Though it was not the most difficult nor most important battle she had every fought it, the victory was still sweet and thrilling, and all the more so when everyone around her was whooping and smiling from it.

Eventually, their initial celebrations died down. As they were preparing to return to Garreg Mach and packing everything away, Seteth finished addressing Byleth and came over to where Flayn was stacking unused vulneraries in a box for transport. "Flayn, come ride back with me."

Flayn fiddled with a flask that did not quite want to fit, torn. On the one hand, she knew that Seteth was being Seteth, and she wanted to stay with her classmates instead of letting him get between them yet again; on the other, she did love being taken for rides on his wyvern and seeing the world from so far in the air....

No, she needed to stick to her principles if she was ever going to convince him that she was a capable adult. "I will ride back with my classmates," she told him.

"Are you certain?" He took the stubborn vial from her and slid it in to its place on only his second try. Hmph. "You look a bit peaked."

It was true that her headache was getting worse, but still. "Perhaps I have not had enough water to drink? Mercedes said that she brought ginger-water, so I will go ask her for some now!"

She dashed off before Seteth could insist further. Mercedes did indeed still have ginger-water and it was indeed delicious, especially when it was warmed with a little spell.

Flayn ended up riding back alongside her. Mercedes spent most of the journey talking with other students, but she was sweet enough to make periodic efforts to encourage Flayn to join in. In truth, she was not feeling very talkative as the afternoon passed on; her head throbbed and she just wanted to lay down and rest. It turned into one of those journeys where she wished every few minutes that it was over already, despite how much further she knew there was to go.

Their grand dinner was boisterous and noisy – which did not help her headache or her mood – but the food was delicious, and she stuffed herself with all the delights before her. After the dishes were cleared, it was apparently time for socializing, with students moving back and forth across the room with little regard for houses. As the hall grew louder and louder, Flayn decided that perhaps she could make more friends another day.

The air outside the dining hall was chilly and damp, but quiet as she moved away from the building. She passed Marianne, who appeared to be the only other person outside, murmuring a prayer to herself in the garden.

And then there came rapid footsteps behind her. "Flayn!"

She sighed and turned around to face Seteth, who was approaching her with pinched eyebrows. "What is it?"

"Are you sure you're feeling all right?" he demanded as he came to a stop in front of her. "You do not look well, and it is not like you to leave an event early. I thought that maybe all of this would be too much for you in your condition—"

All of Flayn's frustrations snapped at once: her exhaustion to the point that the space behind her eyes felt hollow, Seteth's continuous fussing over every aspect of her life, her disappointment at not having performed quite as well as she could have in the battle, her fear and irritation with her nightmares, the pain pounding above her eyes.

"My _condition_?" she snapped. The feelings needed somewhere to go; she stomped her foot for lack of a better outlet. "I have told you time and again that I am perfectly recovered from the kidnapping! Do you believe I am such an idiotic child that I would put myself in danger by pushing myself into battle when I am unable to fight properly? Do you think that the Professor is so lowly or stupid as to allow a student who cannot protect herself onto the battlefield? Is it _any_ of your business if I stay late or leave early, or are you simply meddling in my life and relationships _again_ when I have asked you so many times to _stop it_?"

Her voice rose as the words spilled out, until she was nearly shrieking at him. She didn't realize how loud she was becoming until Marianne's head snapped up behind Seteth, shock written on her face.

Seteth looked even more startled by her outburst; he took a step back. "I... Flayn...."

As quickly as it had come on, the anger ebbed, replaced by guilt for shouting at him, never mind how aggravating he could be at times. "I apologize," she said. "I – I wish to go rest."

She turned and fled, hearing nothing but the wind in her ears and the tap of her boots on the stone until she made it all the way to their sitting room, heaving for breath as she sat down and buried her face in her arms.

Now she felt even _worse._ And her headache had become more painful from the dashing about. Even if she went to bed, she had a feeling she wouldn't be able to sleep, but would only have that strange exhaustion of _wanting_ to sleep and only waiting endlessly for it to come. To think that so short a while ago she never would have imagined that she would soon _want_ to sleep....

The door hesitantly creaked open. Flayn peeked over her arms, wondering if she was about to receive a scolding, but Seteth only looked concerned, not angry, his frown deep.

Still, she said, in a small voice, "I am sorry. I should not have yelled."

His frown somehow deepened further. "It is no matter. I... how are you feeling?"

"I have a headache," she confessed.

"I thought you seemed off today," he said, coming over and stroking her hair. That was nice; the feeling was old and familiar and soothing. A small healing spell washed over her, too, full of warmth, helping to ease the pressure in her forehead until it was only a dull ache. "If it hurts, then you are right: you should rest. Shall I make some of that chamomile you've been fond of recently?"

She nodded; while it had not chased away her nightmares, she held out hope that it was having _some_ kind of beneficial effect.

He made tea for both of them and they sipped at it in silence. "Flayn," he started to say at one point, but then he shook his head and said, "No, it can wait."

She did not particularly feel like pressing him on the subject. He probably only wanted to question her health even more.

When her share was finished, she washed her cup and went to bed, where she started blankly at the ceiling for what felt like hours before sleep finally overtook her and she dreamed.

_The spell hurt so much as it drained away her life, her blood, her energy, and the masked figures around her milled about and blurred into each other, speaking words she couldn't understand and staring as she tried to pull herself away._

_And then the figures drew away and she put everything she had into breaking the spell circle, and it cracked and she was crawling along stone that was slimy and slick and suddenly she was in her room again, she was safe—_

_No, there was another of those tables they'd strapped her to, and Manuela was on it, limp – she turned and there was another with Byleth, staring at her with those emotionless eyes, and she backed away and turned and ran into the cathedral, looking for help._

_But there was another spell circle, red red red and in it was Seteth and she ran to it and knelt and touched his hair but he didn't look up, was he breathing? She could not see his chest moving and she searched for his pulse but though she tried over and over again she couldn't get her fingers right and he still wasn't breathing and the spell only turned more crimson._

_Goddess, she thought, but when a shadow fell over her it was not the Goddess or any of her fellow Saints but the man dressed like death and his scythe moved and she did not know who he aimed it at—_

_She awoke and sat up, set her feet upon the floor, stood, no, something was—_

_She awoke and sat up, set her feet upon the floor, sprang up because this was not yet—_

_She awoke and sat up, shoved the covers away and shook her head, was she still—_

Flayn fell from her bed when she tried to bolt out of it, the blankets tangling as she frantically kicked at them and her heart beating so hard in her chest she felt dizzy. Was she truly awake now? She dug her nails into her arm as she struggled to untangle herself; dreams did not have such a sharp, real pain. How she hated dreams of waking up!

As soon as she was free, she sprinted the few steps to her door, wrenched it open, tumbled into the sitting room, and spun to pull open Seteth's door as well.

Seteth pushed himself up at the sound of the door slamming against the wall. "Flayn? What—"

The sight of him so clearly alive and well – so clear that she did not need to feel for his pulse over and over, failing dozens of times – after that horrid dream relieved her so much that she clung to the door frame, afraid she would collapse to the floor. Her breath was coming in short bursts that she could not control.

"Come here," he said, shifting his legs out from under his pale blankets and extending his arms. Flayn went, her legs shaking, and let him pull her up on to the bed and hug her. She pushed her face into his warm shoulder and tried to rein in her stuttering breaths.

"I am sorry." Her voice came out very small. "It was only a dream."

"You don't need to apologize. You know that helping you is never a bother to me. It must have been a terrible dream if you're this frightened." He started to stroke her back in long, slow movements.

It had been so very long since she had come running to her parents over a nightmare – back when she was still a child, back when Mother was alive. Both of her parents had fussed over her, then, Mother making the most calming shushing noises while he had rubbed her back just like this.

The memory, and the thought that she was acting like that again now at her age, made her feel childish. But she was still frightened, too and she could not bear to tear herself away yet.

She tried to breathe in time to his touch on her back. "In my dream... I fear you were dead. I wish I did not have it."

"It is natural to have bad dreams once in a while. Especially so after something awful has happened."

"I _know_." She took in a deep breath and held it, feeling how her ribs expanded, then relaxed when she breathed out. How many nights had she done this on her own in the past month? She was so tired of it. "I have had many bad dreams since the kidnapping," she confessed.

"What?" His hand paused. "You didn't tell me."

"Because I knew it would worry you even further! And... I thought that surely they would go away in time, or perhaps I could find a way to ignore them, and yet.... I have never slept well since I awoke again, but now it seems impossible." She screwed her eyes shut and rubbed her face against his night-shirt. Why would they not simply stop and let her rest?

He was silent for a long moment. "You know... I, too, have had many nightmares."

"You have?"

"When you were asleep for so long, and all I could do was watch and do what I could to speed your healing... I cannot tell you how terrified I was that you would die. I dreamed that someone would take you, or that you would pass away when I was not there, or that you would wake up and wander off without me and I could never find you again." His voice faltered, and he clutched her closer.

"Father...." He flinched; he was paranoid about such words, but who else would hear them when they were alone in their rooms? "I did not know. ... _you_ did not tell _me._ "

He snorted and drew her away so they could look at each other, his hands resting on her shoulders. "I have burdened you enough. But Fl... Cethleann, I would much rather worry over you for the rest of my life than have you suffer if there is anything I can do about it." His fingers tightened around her arms.

"You cannot make my nightmares vanish," she pointed out.

"No, but... perhaps I can help you sleep, or at least be there for you when you awaken from them. To think that you've been struggling with something like this by yourself, I...."

She sat back on her heels, frowning. "I have borne it well enough. It is not as though I have lain awake in terror every night! There are things I have been trying."

"And yet you still have them, do you not? At least come and talk to me about them. That is something you do not seem to have tried yet."

That... was true. "If you think you can help... but only if you do not chide me for continuing to go to class despite them. My new activities do not make them worse. I am sure of it, and I have already learned so much from the Professor! And _please_ try to fuss over me a little less."

His lips pressed into a line. "Cethleann, I can hardly help worrying over you. There are people after us – as we have so recently seen! – and now that your mother is gone, you are the most precious thing left to me."

"Then please worry about how your worry affects _me_ ," she begged. "It is tiresome to always have you reminding me of things I know, or to be chasing off my classmates."

He rubbed the heel of his hand against his brow and sighed. "How about this," he said after a moment. "I will... attempt to ease off on my apprehensions of how trustworthy your classmates are. In return, please tell me when you are having trouble sleeping, or when you are in distress from these dreams, so that I may help you."

"That sounds acceptable," she said, hoping he meant his end of it. Deal made, she flopped to the soft covers. The dimness of the room did not seem so scary now, though there was still tension in her back.

Seteth gave her a small smile. "Do you plan to sleep more tonight? If you've been having that many nightmares, I'm sure you could use it."

"I do not know if I can. How is it possible that I am so tired and yet unable to sleep?" she asked the tiled ceiling.

Her father chuckled and moved to the top of the bed, pulling down the blankets so he could cover her with them. She allowed this – it was warm underneath them – and to her surprise, he started to sing as he stroked her hair, his voice very soft.

Not a lullaby, thankfully, just a song she did not recognize. His voice was not quite as pleasant as Mother's had been, but it was smooth and affectionate, and she meant to ask him what the name of the song was when he finished. Somehow, she drifted away instead.

~!~

Flayn awoke in a nest of blankets, a pillow clutched to her chest. She lay there for a few minutes, thoughts coming and going like clouds, until she realized that there was something wrong about the light.

She bolted upright; she was still in Seteth's bed, and there he was, sitting in a chair and doing work on a lap desk.

"What time is it?" By the angle of the sunlight, it was far past the start of class!

"Almost noon." He smiled at her. "Do not worry. I told the Professor that you were not feeling well and may be late or miss class. How are you feeling? No headache this morning?"

"What headache?" she cried, flinging off the blankets and dashing to her own room. She dressed in record time, barely pausing to smooth her curls before she clipped them out of the way. After stuffing her feet into her boots, she just made it into the sitting room – the clock did indeed say it was lunchtime now – before remembering her bag and having to double back for it.

Seteth was there when she popped back out. "You have everything this time?"

"Brother, why did you not wake me?!"

"I tried – you turned over and went back to sleep. If you were so tired that I couldn't wake you, I thought you needed the rest."

"Ugh!" She scrubbed her hands against her face, cursing her earlier self. "We are meant to discuss the battle today! I hope I have not missed everything... I will be going now!"

She ran off before he could say any good-byes. Thankfully, when she reached the dining hall and found Byleth, she learned that the battle discussion had been scheduled for the afternoon. It turned into a very lively debate that she was glad not to have missed.

After class, Mercedes asked after her and invited her to bake more of those small buns in the dining hall. Ignatz found her there, wanting her opinion on a passage on Cethleann he had found, and Linhardt came in while they were talking to show off the fish he had just caught – with the aid of her advice, no doubt.

Her set of buns burned in the oven, but at least Mercedes's turned out well.

The dream she had that night was not as sweet as the buns. On waking, she stared at the wall, fighting off her dread and thinking of the terrible people who were after her blood, of her fear that she might one day sleep away another long stretch of time by accident, of the faces of her companions from so long ago who she had worked so hard to save....

She forced herself out of her bed and went to knock on Seteth's door, wondering as she did so if he had nightmares of her abduction; wondering if, perhaps, it was not so childish to want some comfort and company after such bad dreams.


End file.
